Begg Steel and Burrow

By Nev White

The author releases a griping and entertaining story about two brothers pursuing different paths to fame and fortune a novel peppered with excitement amusement drama joy and sorrow most suitable for children and adults alike a must for those seeking an enjoyable interesting read that deserves a place amongst ones library truly an interesting read could be true today as it could be tomorrow.

Begg Steel and Burrow is one of the Grandad series of books.

Nev White
http://www.nevwhitebooks.com/
[e-mail].

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499088366

Nev White

Nev White is a keen author and an artist who has travelled extensively through Europe while in the Royal Air Force. He has seen many areas of the Second World War conflicts in France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany. With that experience, he can write about actual places and dates. He is widowed with a family and grandchildren in mind. They encouraged him to write a series of books entitled “The Grandad Series.”

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Nev White.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014913690

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-8834-2

                Softcover        978-1-4990-8835-9

                eBook             978-1-4990-8836-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/11/2014

Xlibris LLC

800-056-3182

www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

630506

CONTENTS

Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1: Probationary Period Is Over

Chapter 2: Army Life

Chapter 3: They All Return

Chapter 4: Maybe Now You Will Believe Me

Chapter 5: Only Yourself to Blame

Chapter 6: I Want to Be Somebody

Chapter 7: A Spy in the Camp

Chapter 8: The Find

Chapter 9: You Killed My Dad

Chapter 10: My Marriage to Fran

Chapter 11: More Money Than Sense

Chapter 12: Who Killed Ringside Ronnie?

Chapter 13: Percy, It Is You They Want

Chapter 14: Statement of Lies

Chapter 15: It’s Now or Never

Chapter 16: All Is Not Well

Chapter 17: My Dear Friends and Gentle People

Chapter 18: Ollie Is in Trouble

Chapter 19: Carol Keen to Show Authority

Chapter 20: Extra Time Being Played

Chapter 21: Goodbye, Ollie Burrows, See You Later

Chapter 22: Old Lags Reunion

Chapter 23: Tired of Living and Afraid of Dying

Chapter 24: Intervention of Carol and Fran

Chapter 25: Fight Night

Chapter 26: Thank God for Matt

Chapter 27: Mrs Randle’s Dilemma

Chapter 28: It Is My Life

Chapter 29: Bulging Eyes and Bony Fingers

Chapter 30: My Torturous Dreams

Chapter 31: Why Should You Care

Chapter 32: Prove it, Ianto

Chapter 33: Sing and Be Happy

Chapter 34: There’s a Song in the Air

Chapter 35: The Stage Is Set

Chapter 36: On the Road

Chapter 37: Ianto’s Birthday Surprise

Chapter 38: The Reunion

Chapter 39: By the Grace of God

Chapter 40: The Yanks Are Coming

Chapter 41: Preparations for the Grand Finale

Chapter 42: The Grand Finale

Chapter 43: Keep in Touch

Chapter 44: So Sorry, Jenny

Chapter 45: Goodbye, Alec, and God Bless

Chapter 46: How I Met Tom

Chapter 47: Prepare to Sing

Chapter 48: Sing, Songsters, All of You

Chapter 49: Percy, I Blame You

Chapter 50: The International Song Festival

Chapter 51: Success Breeds Success

Chapter 52: Jess Is in Hospital

Chapter 53: Farewell, My Friend

Chapter 54: Paris, Here We Come

Chapter 55: Murder of Tom van der Roop

Chapter 56: The Show Goes On

Chapter 57: Come and Join Us

Chapter 58: No Future in the Past

Chapter 59: Last Act for Grandad

Chapter 60: Seven Roses for Grandad

Chapter 61: The Marriage

Chapter 62: Kate and England

Other books in the Grandad series by the author, Nev White

Dedication

T O MY GRANDCHILDREN and to those who unwittingly inspired me to write about the effects upon life in remand homes and prisons and how a serious illness gives much worry and concern to family life.

Appreciation is given to Thorne and District Male Voice Choir and musical director, Gwneth Platts, and to David Davis for his assistance in the Methodist Church of Doncaster.

Preface

T HE STORY COVERS the lifetime of two brothers, each pursuing different paths to fame and for tune.

It starts with a biography of a dying man who traces his life from being a boy of sadness and sorrow and struggle of disappointments from borstal and remands homes and prisons—a boy called Percy, who is constantly in trouble with the authorities for his petty stealing—to thinking he deserves a better life of why he should go short when others have plenty. While spending time in prison, he finds a saviour in Jess, a giant of a man who protects him from prison gangs.

When Percy is released from prison, Jess gives him his home address to call upon his parents. It’s here that Percy is offered opportunity to manage Jess in the wrestling world when released from prison in five weeks.

Jess is a professional wrestler, and Percy is to manage him and others to create an income they find themselves badly in need of.

Business prospers, and other concerns are found to create wealth but not without troubles with the police and gangs who are responsible for murder, theft, and violence.

His brother, William, is in a different life completely and becomes an American citizen after being adopted into a Welsh family and takes the name of Ianto William Begg Morgan, commonly known as Ianto (pronounced Yanto), who pursues a life of singing on pleasure cruises until he settles in Maryland, United States.

Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely a coincidence; my intentions are not to offend. All materials in this book are to be accepted as a story designed for good reading for all age groups. Also, I do not intend to offend or embarrass anyone of any race, religion, colour, or physical make-up; if anyone is offended, I apologise, for this is unintentional.

Chapter 1

Probationary Period Is Over

O NE YEAR PROBATION for fighting in town centre and only fourteen—when I was thirteen, I stole chocolates and other confectionary from supermarkets and apples and pears from a farmer’s orchard. He blamed me for stealing his peas and carrots, but that wasn’t me; he felt he ought to use me as an example. As for fighting, what do you do if someone picks a fight with you? You defend yourself. I did but broke his jaw.

I left school at nearly sixteen and went looking for a job; probation period was over. Dad worked on railways, and Mum did her best for the family of two elder sisters and a younger brother; the sisters worked at sewing factory; the pay was not great, but it was a job. I thought, ‘I’m not working for peanuts. I want the best and am going to get it. Why should we go short when I see others with plenty?’

Mom disliked me talking like that. I never suggested I would break the law to achieve all I wanted—a better life. Somehow Mom thought we must be satisfied with our station in life. Dad would reply that prisons are full of innocent people. He really meant ‘Many should not be there. Many lawbreakers are walking free and enjoying ripping off the public.’ He believed ‘Money be power, and power corrupts, and the corrupted are not always apprehended for their ways.’ He would say, ‘We don’t make the law but are expected to obey it.’ I can hear it now, Dad’s old sermon. Sadly, he is not around any more; he worked his fingers to the bone to retire early through ill health; then he died and left us. That was the worst thing he did to us.

My dear mom, I loved her to bits; sadly she left us to go to Jesus. She would give me a few cuffs around the head, something Dad would never do. My two sisters got themselves married off, one to a rich guy and the other to a right old darling if ever there was one, a prattle, always talking in childish ways. Then Billy, younger brother, was still at school; well, he was last time I heard from him.

I think he was planning to go and live in Wales or mid-Wales. I was not going to mention it; it upsets me so much to speak of it. Mrs Randle—it was that Mom was dying from an incurable sickness, so Billy, he went to live with a new family in Wales. He joined a Methodist church choir, and then we lost contact. I suppose I am to blame for I was here, there, and everywhere; thought I did see him on television singing in a church choir. That would be last time I saw him. Did hear he was around Cardigan Bay, then North Wales to Ryhl and Abergelli, and Prestatyn, but then the church group visited many areas across Wales.

What were you doing in a remand home, Percy?

Two years ago, on one occasion, I stole from a shop. Just walked out with a computer under my arms—a bit stiff for that offence; I got blame for others, and then I had nowhere to go when I got out, and who would employ me?

If I fail to find work, I will be back in a remand home or prison. You have to do as you are told, and there are some rotten devils there. Some staff are very bossy and bullish, most governors were fair except some of the staff; it was sometimes them that required more watching.

God help some of their wives and children. I thought many a time that it was them that require counselling, not people like me. I was there for corrections, not like the past with physical corrections. Thank God those days have gone. The whole system has changed a lot over the years. The State has learnt its lesson; only its players fail to play by the rules. You are getting my life story, and I need to ask why?

Percy, it is voluntary. You can withdraw any time from discussion, but I find you a special case insomuch as you are intelligent, bright, and sometimes humorous. Really, you should not have been in prison.

‘Well, where should I be, Mrs Randle? I have had no home, nobody to turn to, no job, and very little money. I’ll tell you my life story, and you can judge for yourself, but this is the beginning and hope you find my life an interest to others and a learning curve a journey through my youth from remand homes, then on to prison.

‘Mrs Randle, you have a degree in psychiatry, or is it psychology? I don t know the difference, but I have a degree in sociology learnt in prison. Am I to assume our wits are to collide, or do you wish just to listen for me to introduce a social factor about my life? I thought you would not answer. Mrs Randle, may I call you Sally?’

I looked at Sally and quickly made my assessment of her—a little on the short side with long golden hair tied neatly in a ponytail fashion, her hazel eyes looking so kind and comforting, a pleasant-looking person, but when in thought, she would attend to her thumbnail on her right hand as if searching for an answer, and when interjecting me, she would do so in a most polite manner. I sensed then what a lovely person she is to talk to.

Sally, my prison came about from handling and selling stolen goods and forgery. Three years I got for my crimes on that occasion. My education was speedily elevated. I learnt fast. I read many books. I kept clear of trouble and served my time amongst high-profile crooks, thieves, and violent inmates who cared little about anyone but themselves. That’s how it was.

We all have a story ‘from rich to poor’. There is nothing wrong in seeking monetary gain in pursuance of a better life; money is not to blame. There is nothing wrong with money. It is how it is used and obtained. I am not innocent, nor is it appropriate for me to blame others or my keeper. It is circumstances of my life. Sally, you listen. I’m inclined to ask questions and answer them myself. You just nod in approval. You may smile as I proceed.

We seek and ask questions as who is to blame for any errors made in our life? The courts, police, public and social systems, or the law? Many people in prison many prove to be innocent after appeals and serve many years in prison with their life destroyed; many have been hanged and were innocent. This is a failure of the judiciary system with evidence provided, so who carries the blame? I have gone through it. You listen and glean what you wish, put it in your notes, and leave nothing out for this is a true testimony of my life.

You write about me; it is my job to ensure you have the right material to work on. I’m an old man, not here much longer. I am dying of cancer. Hopefully, the picture will materialise as I go on. In some things you may have to form your own opinion; this is an outline or a preface to what I saw and what I think.

As one remains unaffected and only reads the script but does not play the role or make the judgements, it may seem fine to them; some may care, some may not. My journey through life, hopefully, will enable others to analyse many things as long as they remain unaffected; some have a vignette or a wider view and care not about anything else, only themselves, and as laws are made and broken, it is only the judgements that one fears—not the law itself—and I am part of that system.

I’m not imitating others from screen, radio, or television, but we learn off others and from our own peer group. It is what we learn and accept for the whole or majority to please rather than displease, to give pleasure rather than displeasure, to be free from pain and suffering, to be happy and enjoy a good life and eliminate any obstacles in the social system and the environment. I give you my story and hope I do not bore you with my introductions. You listen and form your own conclusions and refrain from judgement until you digest the facts. The jury is out, so, Sally, think not of me, of what I could have done, but of what I have done. I am not asking for appraisal or condemnation. I am asking to be heard.

Some sixty years ago, it was Matt, then Jess. I planned and schemed and made a better life. I deserved it, and by God, I intended to make amends for the lost time. Whether or not you put that in your book is up to you; you sort it out. My mind is all over the place, but about what I have told you, I still feel angry and bitter. So let us move on before I crack up, for in my short time left I wish to be happy. So, Sally, cheer me up by just listening.

Chapter 2

Army Life

P ERCY, YOU HAVE a medal; you have been decorated for bravery. Let us start with your army life. You saved five soldiers who were pinned down under heavy fire. You went to assist and rescued them. Is that true, P ercy?

Well, yes, but look, I do not wish to talk about it, for it hurts me to think that so many soldiers lost their lives and had nothing to show for it. I was lucky I came home to prison life, and believe me, I would rather be in prison than carry a rifle knowing what I know now.

‘Fight for your country’ was the call, and no sooner one war was over than another one breaks out. I learnt my lesson. Why should I take up arms and kill my own people? We are supposed to be educated! Education my foot, it is intelligence that is important.

It was just the same hundreds of years ago it was kill, and kill again all through the ages, and we think we are educated. I soon changed my mind when I saw what I had done; it unnerved me to think what I had done to others because I had a gun in my hand. We are cruel to one another because of power, money, land, and religion, maybe not in that order, but it will be the same in another thousand years from now because that is what it has been about in the last 2,000 years.

Percy, it would be better if you were to talk about your army life.

Sally, it was the SAS. I volunteered and became a sergeant. I was about twenty-two years of age and served three years straight into khaki uniform, then straight back into prison—blue uniform. Sally, I really do not wish to talk about it. Look, Sally, I was trained to kill, how to use a knife, how to fire a rifle and kill or be killed. Is that what you wish to hear?

I say, is that what you wish to hear?

Percy, I know you did not go direct to jail from borstal. Percy, you must tell me all.

I took a long pause and hesitated. A tear rolled down my face. ‘I did not wish to discuss it, Mrs Randle, you are pushing me,’ I screamed, but she was adamant, and I conceded.

Right, Mrs Randle, sorry, Sally. You make of it as you wish. It was whilst I was in the army protecting my country with my wife looking after baby, Janet, at home. Yes, I was married, with a baby. It was whilst serving in Belize that word came through that my wife and baby were killed by a hit-and-run driver. I loved Margaret dearly and baby Janet. They were taken away from me in the blink of an eye.

I was allowed compassionate leave. I got home and searched for the driver, but he had been arrested and in custody. He got six months for killing two people and failing to stop. Sally, now you can see where my anger comes from, from the State and its man-made laws.

After they released him, he was found hanged. They blamed me for pestering him. There was no consideration given to me and my loss. It was all about him because he had a clean record. What they meant was he had no previous convictions. A clean record? He was far from being clean. He was a murderer.

I was glad he was found dead.

Percy, did you do it?

Mrs Randle, I was glad he was dead. He killed my family. I wanted to be somebody and had it all taken away from me. I had no family to turn to. We wanted to build a life together. We loved each other, and that love soon turned to hate and vengeance. We had accommodation in army barracks in the United Kingdom. Although I was posted to Belize on a six-week secondment mission, on my discharge from the army, I found out he had been pestering Margaret for some time and could have murdered them, but the courts took a different view. I like to think he has gone to hell, and my Margaret and baby have gone to the arms of Jesus.

My hurt and anger got the better of me, and I was sent down for three years for fraud. I passed a dud check and sold a painting that I had nicked. Three years I got, yet if you kill someone on the roads, you get six months and get banned from driving for life. I ask you, who would wish to drive again after such an instance?

Sally, that is all I wish to say for it is a very sad part of my life, so can we move on? You draw your own conclusions: Was it society, social structure, financial constraints, or just bad luck? It certainly was not my fault or had anything to do with me. In fact, it was other people that made me and designed my life, not me. I had no say. I was told what to do. It was what others did that made me what I am.

My happiest time came when Matt appeared on the scene, then Jess, followed by Ollie.

Percy, tell me about Matt. You say he played a large part in your life.

Sally, I know a lot about him, and the less I say, the better. You are writing about me. If you wish to know about Matt, then ask him.

Percy, I have done so, and he says for me to ask you, about the time you both nearly killed the warden of the borstal home you were in.

Sally, we ought to have done it. He was a swine. We called him Camp Commandant. We used to say, ‘YaWohl’. Someone painted above camp gates: Work makes you free. Warden was not pleased. He gave us hell. We rebelled. We burnt his office out, flooded the workshops, and ran out. We absconded for three days and got caught nicking from a superstore.

That swine nearly killed us. No one asks why. All they are bothered about is what punishment to dish out or mete out. Talking of meat, some said it was meat that caused us to rebel, so we got no meat for three weeks. In fact, we got very little of anything.

The warden, on Tuesdays, would have sandwiches for lunch, and someone put rat poison in his sandwiches. We got the blame. I know who did it but am not telling you. The warden had to finish work through ill health. Many people like us were pleased and would say, ‘That rat deserves it.’ We did hear later that he was charged with cruelty.

Matt and I were sent to an adult prison but not the same prison, and it was a few years later when I saw Matt again.

Percy, you said you nearly killed the warden.

I did? Well, cross that out, but it was last time I saw or heard of him.

Matt went to other prisons. That is when he took up wrestling. He was always a fit man, and how pleased I was to see him again—an honest man, a fair-minded man, and still is. Eventually, he was released, got a job cleaning stables out, and got to know the owners and trainers. He got to selling tips backing winners and made a packet, got in with owner’s daughter, married her, and then seemed to go off radar.

Chapter 3

They All Return

I N PRISON, I was introduced to Jess, a mountain of a man, six foot three inches, and weighing eighteen stone. He greeted me with an offering of Jelly Babies sweets. I offered my thanks and felt overpowered with my five-foot-seven and twelve-and-a-half-stone frame. Many inmates thought Jess was placed with me to try and encourage me to join the prison gang who ran rackets. How wrong they were.

After about an hour, Jess leant over me and enquired, ‘What’s it like in here?’ I offered my opinion that differed greatly from commentators’ who express their opinions of how easy prison life is but have only seen the outside of prisons. What they don’t know is the inside. I was bullied, robbed, and beaten.

Jess wanted to know all about me, so I brought him up to date. I was not inclined to do so, but wondered what would happen if I declined. Then I tried my luck, and hesitatingly asked, ‘What are you in for, Jess?’

‘Non-payment of fines.’

‘Is that all?’ I asked. ‘That’s nothing serious?’

‘It is when you break bailiff’s legs and wreck his car,’ he replied.

We hit it off straight away. From day one we were buddies. No one messed with Jess, and no one troubled me. Life inside improved for me. I got to wondering whether I could be better off here than outside. I have no one to turn to, no home, no job, no nothing. Probation could find me supervised accommodation in flats, but I didn’t fancy that.

Jess rested his face in his large hands, then grunted as if he was suffering from a heavy throat infection to say, ‘Percy, I have protected you from scum in here. So when your time comes in four weeks for release, get this nonsense from your head about coming back. Get out and start a new life. Take what is offered from authorities and build on it. You are a good man. I knew has soon as I met you.’

‘When you get out,’ he said, ‘you go to this address and ask for Flat-nose Ted and ringside Ronnie.’

‘Who the devil are those?’ I asked.

‘My mates in the wrestling world.’

‘Jess, do you owe them money?’

‘No, not them. My problem was gambling. I had a lot of gambling debts. Horses and casinos and nightclubs. I was a fool. I could have been somebody.’

‘Jess, you still can be. You are only twenty-seven and still have your mum and dad.’

‘No, Percy, it’s too late. Would you look up Mum and Dad for me when you are released?’

Release day and Jess was crying, ‘See you, buddy.’

‘Jess, don’t let them see you crying and keep your nose clean. I’ll see you in two months.’

A guard commented, ‘You will be back before then. They always come back, and I will be waiting.’

I looked at the guard and said, ‘You’ll wait a long time then, but then you have a life inside, not me.’

Probation services found me a place to stay—not ideal, but would suffice until something better turned up. Looking at the address of Jess’s parents, I realised it was an hour away by train and had no funds available for such a journey. I was up bright and early next morning and hitched a lift before entering motorway, then approached the address with little knowledge of what to expect. I couldn’t have visualised what I was confronted with: a most beautiful single cottage away from the hubbub of traffic, tucked into the countryside, overlooking a most picturesque landscape that any artist would be proud to paint.

With hesitation, not knowing what to expect, I walked along the rose pathway and rattled my knuckles on the thick heavy oak door most suitable for a castle. I waited impatiently after realising a doorbell was available to ring. The door opened, and I was faced with a most pleasant-looking lady, who just said, ‘Hello! How may I help you?’ I swallowed hard and stuttered.

I forgot the surname. I began to panic. ‘I know Jess,’ I said. ‘He has asked me to say hello to you.’ A strange line but the best I could think of.

‘Jess!’ she screamed. ‘You know our Jess?’

‘We were together in prison, and he requested me to give you a call.’

‘Are you Percy? He managed to phone last week to say you will be calling. Do come in.’

I was confronted with a giant of a man that dwarfed me, Jess’s dad. ‘What physique,’ I thought. ‘Tread careful, you are out now and see it stays that way.’

My presence was appreciated, and I enquired why Jess did not write or furnish me with a letter to deliver. His dad looked at me and said, ‘Jess cannot write. When he was a boy, he was knocked down by a bus. It impaired his speech and delayed his education. He became a slow learner. Doctors did say at the time it may take years before he’ll grapple with the three Rs. Although he may lack in that department, he could develop well in other areas.’

‘Jess Rambo’ they called him for a bit of fun, but he did not mind. He could have been someone. He could have wrestled for the heavyweight championship. His inability to write and being a slow learner was never considered when he was sent down. It was his debts for gambling. Bailiffs got tough with him, and moneylenders piled more debt on him, whether he wanted it or not, until one day he snapped, and all hell broke loose. It took five policemen to control him. Yes, some of his friends a few years ago called him ‘Jess Rambo’, and it just seemed to stick.

In the wrestling ring he could have gone for the heavyweight title but for those cold-callers, casinos, and other types of gambling institutes. They had a manager who was a crook. He should be in prison, not Jess. It was treatment he required, not prison.

They wanted to hear about me, Sally. ‘Jess mentioned you when he could phone and on visiting days. How are your parents and where do you live?’ So I poured it out for them to make their own judgements.

I said, ‘My parents are dead, one sister in Canada, other married to a prattle, and a younger brother went to live in Wales whilst I was inside. I had no support when I needed it. Now I have to start afresh, and I have to go to where I live. It’s about 5 p.m., and I’ll see if I can hitch a lift back.’

‘Percy, I have three houses, have one available in a couple of weeks. Would you like one? Eat up and we’ll show you. It’s occupied at present, but vacant in two weeks.’

I thanked them. ‘But I have no job and no money for rent,’ I said.

But it was ‘Look, Percy, have tea with us, and we’ll run you home.’

I enquired, ‘What will Jess do when released?’

‘He wishes to wrestle and wishes for you to manage him.’

I was taken by surprise. ‘But I do not know much about wrestling or any business,’ I explained.

‘Percy, you are so modest,’ said his dad. ‘Anyway, you will learn.’ I was motionless and had to think fast and thought, ‘It has to be better than prison, but what if I fail, not knowing what to do?’ I consoled myself, shrugged my shoulders, and said to myself, ‘Now is the time to learn.’

I thought and presented my imaginary CV in a mind of fantasy and verbal actions. Well, no losses; no knockouts; many knockdowns; none went the distance; injuries sustained, none; injuries given, one broken jaw, many heavy cuts above the eyes, and broken nose, several fights stopped in first round.

Mr Steel could see me toying with the idea and just laughed as I said, ‘I’m-am to be his manager. I will manage him well in business and in the wrestling ring, if he wishes me to be his manager. It’ll be hard until we achieve fame in the wrestling world. We may have to pull a few strings before we climb through the ropes.’ I explained, ‘It’ll not be pleasant. It’s a tough world out there. I thought we have a start in Jess. I see